


Matched Set

by RetrobrandWheeljack



Series: This is Basically the Parent Trap [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Separate Childhoods, Separation, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 02:09:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17255636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetrobrandWheeljack/pseuds/RetrobrandWheeljack
Summary: There's something familiar about the mech. Sunstreaker just doesn't know what to think of him, or what the slag it means.





	Matched Set

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the 'Tale of Two' verse.

The air in a Decepticon brig was about as good as the atmosphere on Centaris Seven.

The floors were stained with energon, and the cells, despite holding at least a couple of live mechs, were eerily quiet. 

Whether or not they were Autobots or Neutrals, Sunstreaker didn’t know.

Not that anyone had been around to tell them anything. There were no attempts at demanding information, or even the snide question about how much credits and Energon they could squeeze out of Prime for his return. 

There was nothing. 

The deceptions at this particular outpost were uncomfortably serious, as well as thorough. They cleared out his subspace as soon as they had his face shoved into the ground, along with every weapon he had hidden underneath his plating. 

So neither he or Jazz had expected the ambush. 

The empty plains seemed answer enough to any queries about enemies habituating the surrounding land, but the Decepticon’s cloaking devices had obviously improved. 

They were also smart. Smarter than the usual group of grunts doing the heavy work. 

A black and red Decepticon- the one who had almost taken off one of his audial fins with his energy blade- ordered the third in command to be knocked unconscious as soon as he figured out who the saboteur was. 

His E.M field veiled a strange pulse of curiosity that Sunstreaker barely got a feel of before it retreated with a harsh burn, and a purple mech teleported them straight into the brig.

Before, of course, a sharp blow was delivered to his helm.

And now, Jazz sulked.

“How do we get out?” Sunstreaker asked for the umpteenth time.

“As soon as I figure out how t’ get out of these stasis cuffs.” 

“And I don’t doubt you will, eventually,” A pleasant voice, but at the same time rolling with a lilt that suggested /danger/, purred into the silence. 

Both Autobots looked up, gazes falling to the mech standing in front of them, hands clasped at his front- Sunstreaker didn’t miss the claws on his digits- as he stared at the two.

The Decepticons frame was black, with hints of red, and polished so considerably it gleamed in the low light of the brig.

He looked familiar.

And as much as it the thought made him feel delusional, he _felt_ familiar, too.

“Enjoying your stay?”

Sunstreaker grunted, avoiding the mechs purple gaze, “What do you want?”

The mech eyed him for a second, before a delighted look bloomed across his face. “You mean what are we going to do with you two? The Prime’s creation, and his third in command?”

Sunstreaker glared, but didn’t comment. The Con's bizarre accent was distracting. 

It flowed well, his inflection smooth but distinct, and where flat spoken vowels were spoken, the mechs rolled out words complimented it.

He briefly wondered where he was from, before fixating his stare on the Decepticon, who was looking at him expectantly.

“ The Autobots' will come,” Jazz spoke up when Sunstreaker didn’t, sounding wary, but confident. 

The mech waved a hand dismissively, “I know.”

He looked between the two of them, and the wall separating their frames, “And what will they be willing to give?”

“Whatever you want, I suppose,” Sunstreaker said dryly. And if they managed to escape successfully, they'd be giving them nothing. “Along with a side of kicking the slag out of you.”

Sunstreaker expected him to snatch the halfhearted bait and lose his temper, but the Decepticon _laughed_.

“I don’t think Megatron would be a fan of that,” He said, quirking his optical ridge. “Besides, I don’t need anything Prime, or any Autobot, could give me. What I want, I can easily take.” 

Jazz’s E.M field jerked, wide with surprise- as if he suddenly had a jarring epiphany- but retreated as quickly as it had flared, giving Sunstreaker enough insight to realize just who they were talking to.

The rat who was rumored to be the offspring of Megatron, of all mechs.

No wonder he looked so well taken care of. Most Decepticons were riddled with scrapes and dents. Only the higher command seemed to indulge in the luxury of making themselves look decent.

Sunstreaker frowned in disgust. How anyone could work in such a state of unruliness was beyond him.

“What do you want then, Sideswipe?” Jazz asked, tongue rolling over the designation nicely.

Any Autobot wouldn't have been fooled by the tone. Sunstreaker could all but hear the masked threat in his voice. 

“Actually, I already have what I want.”

The mechs face was smug, and he finally unclasped his hands to let them hang by his sides.

Sunstreaker suspected the lower part of his wrist was where his energy blade was hidden. The slagging thing was sharp.

He pulled his gaze away from the mechs frame, and leveled the Con with a glare.

What he wouldn’t give to snap the stupid audial horns off his head.

“And that is?” Sunstreaker snapped, lifting himself to his feet as Sideswipe took a step closer. 

There was a moment of silence, where the two only stared at each other, E.M fields pulsing almost in sync, before Sunstreaker belatedly realized his sensors were only picking up two spark signatures, instead of three, in proximity. 

Sideswipe didn’t seemed concerned, but the smile had long left his face, and he instead bore a hole in Sunstreaker optics as he gazed impassively at him.

“A spark scan,” He said simply.

It took him a second to comprehend what the con had said.

A Decepticon anywhere near an Autobot’s spark was alarming. 

“Slagger,” Sunstreaker growled, surprise forgotten as he swiftly moved forward to jab a finger at the mech's face. 

Sideswipe snorted, but didn’t flinch, “We didn’t do anything to it.”

Just who he was talking about, neither Autobot wanted to know.

Sunstreaker went to open his mouth again, but the Decepticon was already stepping back, unsubspacing an energon cube as he crouched to the ground.

A black hand pushed the cube across the floor, purple optics not leaving Sunstreaker’s.

“Nothing but the best for the Prime’s understudy.”

The energon was refined, but still pulsed a weak purple. 

Taste wise, it wasn’t any better.

Sideswipe straightened, giving Sunstreaker one last look, before he turned and strode back down the hall, ignoring Jazz’s offended cry of ‘where’s mine, you slagger’.

Sunstreaker took another sip, tanks rolling uncomfortably. He wondered briefly, and anxiously, about what a Decepticon wanted with his spark scans, before he pushed the cube back out. 

“Have mine.”

“Ta.”

There was scraping as Jazz struggled to pick up the cube, before an uncomfortable silence settled over the two.

“Strange mech,” The saboteur said eventually, attempting to lighten the mood.

“The frag does he want with my spark?” 

Jazz settled to lean on the opposite wall, and shrugged, “Beats me. Doesn’t act like Megatron, though. Seems like he’s decently sane.”

Sunstreaker grunted, “As sane as any Decepticon can get.”

It wasn’t like the look behind the mechs optics wasn’t completely psychotic as he stared at Sunstreaker, like he was slowly picking him apart.

Jazz snickered. 

Sunstreaker couldn’t bring himself to laugh with him.

He shifted uncomfortably, and rubbed a hand over his spark. 

It felt strange, oddly light, but tense and tight at the same time.

“Say,” Jazz muttered after a second, “Did you pick up another spark signature?”

Sunstreaker paused.

There had definitely been something odd about his E.M field- the way it didn’t feel out of place when it had briefly made contact with Sunstreaker’s own. That, and the mechs obsession with _staring_ at him. 

“No.”

Jazz went silent.

“A cloaking device, then?” Sunstreaker queried.

“A damn good one,” Jazz said doubtfully. 

Sunstreaker scowled, crossing his arms with an annoyed huff, “What else could it be?”

Jazz shuttered his optics off, “You’d have to ask Ratchet.”

Sunstreaker sneered at the wall, “The slag is that supposed to mean?”

The saboteur ignored him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:
> 
> Ta= Thank you.
> 
> The reason Sunstreaker found Sideswipe’s accent so strange is because Sideswipe was raised by a grounder and a seeker, so his accent got a bit.. muddled. It’s also incredibly strange to hear a grounder have a Vosian accent, or at least the warped on Sideswipe has, since usually only seekers will speak with that sort of accent.
> 
> As for the reason neither Jazz or Sunstreaker noticed Sideswipe’s abrupt appearance (he is silent) is because Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s half sparks showed up as one- and everyone, save perhaps one who now has suspicions, is unaware of the status of spilt sparks Sides and Sunny have. This is also why Sunstreaker’s proximity sensor didn’t pick up Sideswipe’s spark, because it was picking up both of theirs together.


End file.
